


A slow, slow death

by 21stCenturyHero



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21stCenturyHero/pseuds/21stCenturyHero
Summary: No matter how much time passes, the nightmares won’t change, and whenever he’s drowning, he dreams of water.It’s a slow, slow death, really.(Therion dreams with Gareth.)





	A slow, slow death

_“I had a dream last night.”_

His voice was so tiny, no louder than a whisper. It was small and frail, full of a fear he wouldn’t accept as his; he was afraid to, truth be told — afraid of reality, afraid of dreaming, afraid of _himself,_ but whenever Gareth rested his face in his hands like that and stared at him with those eyes as blue as the ocean, Therion’s throat closed up in a knot and he had no choice but to spill it all out like bile.

“A dream where you died,” he said, intertwining his fingers in front of his chest, as if they could somehow stop the flood of words that wrecked his throat like thorns, with those eyes as wide as the moon following his every move. It was nerve-wracking just how close and how far Gareth was, barely at arm’s reach but also distant like a galaxy; and all Therion wanted, needed, was to reach out, to take his hand, to feel the man’s cold skin slowly seeping his warmth. “A dream where I…”

He didn’t say it, wouldn’t dare to say it — for fear of it becoming true, for fear of it _being true._

Gareth allowed himself a small chuckle, tucking rogue strands of hair behind an ear. It was eerie how ethereal he looked, with the sun kissing his olive skin and his white dress fluttering to the breeze, like he was walking in the clouds and the splashes created by the Verdant Deep’s crashing waves surrounded him, glittering, shimmering and reflecting the twilight, becoming million tiny stars.

“It’s not good to dwell on these things,” Gareth told him with the littlest of smiles, tiny dimples forming on his marred cheeks. “You should know that by now.”

It was a sight so beautiful he could die.

It was some sort of sick joke, it had to be; the thief mustered a joyless laugh as an answer, unwinding his fingers and stretching his arms over his head, as if he touch the heavens —that faraway place where Gareth seemed to be. “Guess I always was the hardheaded one, aren’t I…?”

His smile didn’t falter, but there was something glittering, flickering, _burning_ behind Gareth’s blue eyes, just like the wisps of the forest, catching wind of Therion’s inquietude and shifting accordingly.

“Walk with me,” the man said with a tone Therion could never say no to, wrapping his hand around the thief’s wrist and pulling him closer without meeting resistance. His fingers were long, delicate and slender in a manner that you could mistake him for being frail, similar to rest of his build — but they _burned_, searing Therion’s skin with how cold they were and yet spreading warmth throughout the entirety of his body, reaching his face and making his cheeks flare.

He was dragged through the beach, with Gareth in front of him stepping so lightly that he barely left a trail, as if he weighted as much as a feather, and beyond them, the vast horizon revealed itself to them: where blue previously blended into green when the sky met the sea, the sun colored with gold, orange, pink, crimson, slowly drowning the world in red and inviting the stars to come out, robbing Therion of breath while Gareth didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a beautiful world, isn’t it?” the man asked Therion, and he could see the sunset reflected in his eyes, burning red like a ghost’s. “No matter where you are, it’s the same sky, the same ocean — so no matter where it falls, a raindrop finds its way back to the sea.”

Once again, he laughed oh, it was a wonderful sound, the sort that angels made: it was low in tone but high in volume, as strident as everything Gareth did, with his voice sounding both raspy and smooth, flowing like a river.

“You and I are the same. You’re my sky, my boundless sea. So even if we get separated, I shall find my way back to you.”

“Gareth —”

He was beautiful, Therion thought, and whatever he was going to say got lost in the crashing of the waves.

“My beloved friend,” Gareth called, cupping Therion’s face with his hands. “You no longer need to dream and forget about reality.”

_Ah._

_That’s when he realized, he should have kissed him._

\- - -

_It hurt, hurt, **hurt** and his throat was raw from screaming, and he was bleeding, but he didn’t care — not when his blood flowed like a river, joining the mess that he made, and at this point Therion could no longer tell where he ended and Gareth began, because nothing else mattered save holding him, cradling him, begging him— “Please, **please**, I didn’t mean to—…”_

_Gareth’s fingers were long, delicate and slender in a manner that you could mistake him for being frail, and when they touched Therion’s skin, he was taken aback by how cold he already was, with eyes as wide as the moon looking so **pleading**, so—_

_“Lord… Darius…”_

_And that hurt more than any stab wound, more than any knife or any blade, because they were the same — just drops in the ocean, specks of dust, insignificant tea leaves who could be used, broken and toyed with for others’ amusement. It wasn’t fair — to him, to Gareth, that things would end up this way, not when they were never given another chance, not when they were **the same** — just pawns in Cordelia and Darius’ stupid game._

_It wasn’t fair — it wasn’t fair he would have called that name as well._

_Gareth’s hand fell to the floor, and something that was bubbling in Therion’s throat finally threatened to drown him as he screamed once again._

_I had a dream last night,_  
_a dream where you died,  
_ _a dream where I killed you._

\- - -

He woke up alone in his bed, and his throat was dry.


End file.
